


Pensieri di Voi

by ravenromance27



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Family Feels, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2018-10-29 01:16:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10843470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenromance27/pseuds/ravenromance27
Summary: Introspective stories involving the many lives in the KHR universe. Flip-Side to "Trials and Tribulations..."





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Expectations

Authors Disclaimer: As much as I would wish for fate to change and this brilliant work to be mine, the Gods did not see it fit to bless/burden me with such expectations. Therefore I am a mere happy leech that uses the genius of Amano Akira and KHR as my inspiration.

* * *

 

_"When someone sees the same people every day, as had happened with him at the seminary, they wind up becoming a part of that person's life._

_And then they want the person to change. If someone isn't what others want them to be, the others become angry._

_Everyone seems to have a clear idea of how other people should lead their lives, but none about his or her own."_

_― Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist_

* * *

 

**EXPECTATIONS**

There was no denying the fact that when the young Vongola Decimo first set foot in the hallowed halls of the Vongola Headquarters Mansion for his coronation, every Vongola mafioso-young and old—every Allied Famiglia representative, contact, servant, support staff and underling from all walks of the Mafia world came in to see what all the fuss is about and what they could expect in the coming years. They all came hoping to pass judgment on the next head of one of the oldest, wealthiest and most powerful Famiglia in their world. They wanted to see for themselves just what kind of individual has come to lead them all.

* * *

 There was no denying that many felt that the Ninth had settled for a less than ideal candidate after the loss of his legitimate heirs—a half-blooded descendant no less and an untested child at that. A child, rumors speculated, that refused to take a life or act in violence until thoroughly provoked. A child that is both frail in looks and in disposition as he had the unfortunate nature of forgiving trespasses and slights to his position and his name going so far as to offer alliances to people that came to kill him after hearing their reasons. He was so lenient that he even allowed the treachery of the Varia's attempt to unseat him with complacent ease and with nary a sign of extracting even the modicum of vengeance or reprimand. As if those strikes were not enough, each and every one of his chosen guardians bore some objectionable flaw or two. There was no denying that his guardians would have been deemed unsuitable by even the most unprepossessing of Famiglias. All of them were barely old enough to even apply for a driver's license let alone hold such prestigious posts. They were barely older than their supposed Boss, two of them even younger than he himself. Of his six guardians, 2 came from small-time Mafia famiglias that proposes no benefit nor offers any advantage for the powerful family they were joining; 3 came from totally urbane and non-mafia lineage not to mention their foreign bloodline and complete lack of any knowledge of the world they're entering and one came from a famiglia so notorious they were wiped out by their own people due to their nefarious actuation. Add to the fact that technically speaking the Vongola Decimo had seven guardians in total-two acting for the Mist element of his entourage-the other being a silent young woman of indeterminate race or age or even affiliation.

* * *

 

 There was no denying that the Tenth's immediate inner circle was littered with the kind of people most famiglias would turn away without a second thought and without any regret. His chosen right-hand man and Storm Guardian was a bastard born out of his Boss-father's more respectable marriage who spent most of his younger years acting like a brat before running away to earn a living as an independent contractor, shifting allegiance from one convenient famiglia to the next. His dedication and loyalty to the would-be Vongola Tenth Head that should've been his one saving grace is more a disadvantage than anything else due to his irate and temperamental nature. His Rain guardian thought the entire idea of the Mafia was a game and wasn't shy or hesitant enough to express such an idea. He refuses to take anything seriously and flashes his smile with indiscriminate ease to all and sundry. His Sun guardian had no sense of subtlety or even modicum of control over himself or his voice. He constant tries to invite everyone and anyone around him to join him in his quest to form a boxing club. His Cloud Guardian barely paid any heed to anyone let alone his would-be-Boss. He threatens to bite to death anyone foolish or stupid enough to come close. He also has an arrogant penchant of declaiming people to be useless herbivores. His Thunder Guardian was a child that spent more time crying and wailing than actually being anything useful. He also holds the distinction for being the highest ranked Mafioso in terms of being the most annoying and aggravating. His Mist guardian was an ex-escapee from Vendicare Prison itself besides being the sole survivor of a famiglia that even the Mafia didn't want to claim as their own. He also possesses a gift that makes even the most level-headed Mafioso wary. His malicious and cunning nature coupled with his habit of possessing people makes anyone and everyone question what the would-be Decimo was thinking when he recruited someone as seriously deranged as his Mist. His other mist guardian fails comprehension as well since she technically holds the dubious job of hosting the volatile spirit of the Vendicare ex-con when he can't be bothered to appear in person. 

* * *

 

There was no denying that the most coveted seat in their world is being offered on a silver platter to the most unprepossessing individual to ever walk the dark, blood-soaked path of the shadow world. One that, for the longest time denied ever wanting to even hold the post people in their world, would lie, cheat, bribe, betray and kill for. 

* * *

 

And when Sawada Tsunayoshi and his guardians were ushered into the room it was as if the entire underworld took a collective deep breath and never had a chance to release it.

Because while there was no denying that they were hardly what anyone expected, they were there to stay and they brought with them an air of inevitability and undeniable winds of change.

Because there was no denying that the loyalty and dedication that burned in the eyes of the Decimo's Storm Guardian and right hand-man—a fierce, all-consuming, unrelenting fire that would see his chosen leader's plan clear through, allowing no one and nothing to stand in his Boss' way. He will stand sentinel over his master's life and protect him and the Famiglia from all that wishes them ill-will. While he may be easily riled and loud—he is also frighteningly intelligent and able-bodied enough to strategize tactics that often left their enemies scrambling for a way to get away from a single man that fights like a one-man army.

Because there was no denying that behind the benevolent smiles and carefree laughter of the Rain Guardian that soothes the Decimo and his family lies a core of forged edged steel—sharp and ever-vigilant—ready and willing at a moment's notice to slice and slash its way towards preserving the fragile safety and peace of its chosen lord's world. He will continue to shield their Boss from the pain and reality of their new world even if it means he will have to bathe in blood to do it.

Because there was no denying that the Sun Guardian aims to take on the world and prove to it that their sky is worth everything to them and that he would overcome any obstacle, smashing everything in their path to see his Boss' dream come true. He would stand by his Boss and the Famiglia's side and offer him a helping hand, opening his heart to all that the Boss would deem worthy and keep all of his fellow Guardians heart free of doubt and full of hope.

Because there was no denying that while the Cloud Guardian is not someone who would ever allow himself to submit to anyone's control, he stays close enough to watch over the man that understand his needs and refuses to be bind him to their rules and their world. He stays and watches and waits for the time to act—the time when his sky would call upon him and ask of him. Until then he would fly as free as he wish because he knows full well it is the sky that lets him.

Because there was no denying that the Mist Guardians are there to do more than bemuse and create a place to hide their sky and confuse their enemies. They stay close to their sky, knowing all the while that he will never try and cage them, allowing them the freedom to hide in plain sight and knowing in turn that they will continue to weave their careful web of concealment and illusions so that they could keep him pure and unsullied, to keep prying malicious eyes from basking in his pain and to keep away those that seek out to stain their sky with their greed knowing that it is only with him that they are ever truly just themselves.

Because there is no denying that that while he was weak and frail and always afraid, the Lightning Guardian will be denied nothing by his sky. He will continue to care and nurture his lightning's weakness until such a time when the Lightning would stand on his own and defend the sky and all under those under him with a fierceness that would forgive no trespass and will not yield until all that threatens him is burned away. He fights willingly and with joyous abandon knowing that after the fire-storm abates he can always come back to the welcoming arms of his forgiving sky.

Because there is no denying that the moment they felt the weight of Vongola Decimo's eyes upon theirs all their fears and hesitation was curiously put to rest. The clarity and agelessness in the Decimo's eyes spoke of a timeless wisdom that pierced even the most cynical of hearts, shaming their malevolence into silence, awakening their hearts to the unfamiliar unfettering of hope.

There was no denying that Sawada Tsunayoshi, Vongola Decimo and his Guardians were far from suitable. They were, however, exactly what they have been searching and yearning for.


	2. Of things Never Asked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They never really did ask quite the right questions.

_**Chapter 2: Of Things Never Asked** _

Authors Note: If disclaimers were wishes, many a fanfic would still be written. LOL. I pay homage to the master who made KHR and I dedicate this work to those unknown benefactors of mine-my reviewers. You have given me a gift that could not be purchased at any price-the gift of faith. I never really thought I could ever find enough words to string together another story. You have allowed me to continue my dream. My deepest, most sincerest thanks.

* * *

**Of things Never Asked...**

 

_"Dogmatism and skepticism are both, in a sense, absolute philosophies; One is certain of knowing, the other of not knowing._

_What philosophy should dissipate is certainty, whether of knowledge or ignorance."_

_\- Bertrand Russell_

* * *

 

 

When people ask why someone with the skills and a reputation like his stay and serve under the rule of a teenager barely out of puberty, his answer would depend on the interviewers gender, of course.

Should a man ask and he being in a good mood, he would give his usual glib response that he feels a sense of obligation to the Vongola and that a man of his caliber only serves the best Famiglia out there. He would then regale the unfortunate slob of some of his more vicious assignments, of the deaths that he has formulated and the most horrifying, face-melting tales that would scare a horror-writer straight into bedlam.

Should a woman ask, (and let's be honest here, that means an attractive woman and not just a biological female because unlike what some people may think, he does have certain standards) he would probably give his standard spiel, parroted so often he could say it forwards, backwards and in a rhyming limerick complete with a witty couplet at the end. He would spin the tale of woe and redemption and seduction and enslavement guaranteed to win him the heart of a few fair maidens (or in a more believable scenario, a single date that will never be repeated).

What no one ever asks is why someone as pure and good-hearted as Decimo, Head of an imminent, influential and wealthy Mafia Famiglia with the history and prestige as that possessed of the Vongola, settled for some disease-ridden quack like him. Granted, very few (and I do mean less than the fingers of one hand, minus the thumb, of course) people possesses the skills he has but it doesn't mean he's utterly indispensable.

Should they really wish it, Trident Shamal could be wiped clean off the planet and less than a handful of people would miss him or mourn his passing. What they always ask is why he stays and the funny thing was, if he had given them the real answer, no one would believe him. Everyone else would've simply accepted the same predictable reason—he owed the Vongola his loyalty. And the thing was they wouldn't have been completely wrong.

Not right mind you, but not completely wrong either. Yes, he feels some sense of obligation and gratitude for the Vongola name and its sheltering influence. He knows that partially the reason he has been so successful and so free was because of their power.

But it wouldn't have made him stay. He would've lent his services, true, but for a hefty price. He would've given his skills, but he would never volunteer it. Because in truth, the real reason he has stayed had nothing to do with anything remotely related to the Vongola except in its periphery.

The truth—complete and unvarnished—is because he wanted to.

Because for the first time someone bothered to ask him if he was where he wanted to be and he said yes. Because the Decimo actually asked his options, his opinions and and invited him to stay and he said _**yes**_.

Because the Decimo—offered him the post of Family Doctor-not assassin for hire, not killer on retainer-but someone who saves lives- and he said _**y _e_ s**_.

Because Sawada Tsunayoshi's words kept his one-time student from the destructive path of discarding his life like it was nothing and proposed that he stay close enough to see that his student follow it through and he said _**yes.**_

Because he told Decimo the truth: _that he was not normal and never will be; that his hands were stained with too much blood and that he was slightly neurotic…that he was disease-laden and he liked it that way…and that he was definitely damaged and that there's no way to fix him…because he said all the unvarnished truth inside of him to just to make sure that the Decimo understood and Decimo simply smiled, nodded and said_ **yes.**


	3. THIEF

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If there is one thing Bianchi, the infamous Poison Scorpion knew without a sliver of doubt about the Vongola Decimo it is that the man was a skilled thief. Vongola Decimo, for Bianchi, would always be the man that has taken her everything.

**Authors Note:**

Okay…so I suppose the first order of business would be to apologize since I haven't been around and I left a couple of stories hanging like so much unwanted laundry. I know that I should give you good folks a reason but the truth is—I simply haven't felt anything I wrote was worthwhile. And that's just it—if I don't feel anything for the words I am weaving, I can't trust that people would even bother to read it. A less than stellar reason for vanishing into the ether but I don't have any other reason-well, that and real life can be such a pain in the hind quarters every once in a while.

That being said, I wish to thank all the people that read this story and found my take on these characters even remotely interesting. My eternal thanks to you all. Please let me hear your thoughts about this tale once again.

* * *

**THIEF**

" **If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be;**

**and if all else remained, and he were annihilated,**

**the universe would turn to a mighty stranger."**

―  _Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights_

* * *

If there is one thing Bianchi, the infamous Poison Scorpion knew without a sliver of doubt about the Vongola Decimo it is that the man was a skilled thief. Vongola Decimo, for Bianchi, would always be the man that has taken her everything.

* * *

_**He has taken from her side the only semblance of blood ties she had left on earth.** _

_He has taken away her brother_.

Without fanfare and without any of the countless, endless awkward moments that seemed to characterize  _ **their**_ interaction, he has done what she had been unable to do. He has taken Hayato. He has taken him from her arms even before she could reacquaint herself with what her own brother felt like—relearned the softness of his silvery locks, looked anew at his beautiful, all too-revealing teal eyes, found joy in the deepening cadences of his voice, felt the familiar warmth of her often awkward embrace. Before she could reclaim the brother that time and circumstances had stolen from her-someone one else _—that man, that beloved Vongola Decimo—_ had taken Hayato from her.

 ** _He stole Hayato from her._** Stole from him the things **she**  promised herself that she would take. He took away his pain, his destructive wrath, his bitter loneliness and his smoldering despair. Bianchi knows that she had wanted—nay,  _vowed_ —to do it and for the longest time she had fought with the jealousy and shame that burned through her very core when she had to make do with the fact that any chance of that has already been taken from her. The Vongola heir has done all that she couldn't. He saved Hayato.

Hayato is no longer hers to save, no longer hers to rescue. It wasn't just the  _time_  that was taken from her—she had had all those years and made no progress. No, it wasn't time that was denied her nor chance. But rather fate had seen it fit to bless the key to her brother's heart to someone else's keeping.

It was hard to accept that a mere child-this waif-like child so weak and so unaware could heal the wounds that held her precious brother prisoner for so long when her own earnest pleas and entreaties produced nothing but even more distance between them . That this slip of a boy eased the uncertainty and distrust that lingered in her brother's gaze with nothing more than an awkward smile and a few stuttering words when her own stories and revelations served only to darken her beloved brother's gaze and rage to fester in his soul.

It was harder still to accept that no matter what she does or says—no word, no overture or supplication would move Hayato the way  _ **HE**_  does. That while her tears would pain him it would not make him choose her over him. And that his heart— _Hayato's heart_ —would remain with that boy and never— _ **NEVER**_ —with her. It was a far more bitter pill to take—much more acrimonious and deadly than any she could ever concoct. 

* * *

_**He has taken from her side the attention of the only man she had ever wanted to claim.** _

He has stolen her man, the man that she sought—through cunning wiles, a proud reputation, seduction and sheer bloody determination to keep as her own. The only man that stood above every other man in their world. The only one WORTHY of her love and passion.

It has taken years for him to notice her and yet just when she almost had him—just when fate finally gave her the long-awaited chance to win him to her side—Fate played her fickle ways and sent him away from her arms and into the service of a skinny, unpopular, clumsy  _ **runt**_.

He has taken him from her side with no lure of wealth, fame or power. He had none to offer and her beloved still chose him over everything and everyone else. He has taken her beloved away with nothing more than the possibility of the man that he  _could_ become-an offer of the kind of leader he would be the future. A future with no guarantees, no immediate reward, no visible merit save the impossible dream of creating a man more fantasy than fact.

She has done all that she could to drive a wedge between this infidel and her man but it was to no avail. Her beloved remained steadfast in his devotion to that pathetic excuse of flesh and bone. Her beloved-through his honor and reputation and fame—was held hostage to the whims of fate and the wretched failure of a boy that one day might be their world's king.

And that pathetic runt has held on to her beloved Reborn time and time again—with his weakness, his indecision, his stuttering, his trusting nature and his naïveté. She has stood in the sidelines as her beloved—strong as the gods themselves, wily as a fox and handsome as sin—the man above all others— _ **submits**_  to this doe-eyed slip of a boy and follows his command without fear or trepidation. Even when he does it while raining hail and gunfire down that wretched slip of a mafia boss wanna-be.

That boy has stolen her man and her man in turn, owned and valued that boy in ways she could only dream of. That boy whom her beloved nurtured and protected, honored and respected and worse still—she was fairly certain her beloved truly and unconditionally love that runt in a way that he has never loved another.

* * *

_**He has taken her freedom, chaining her to his side.** _

That bloody boy made her into the very embodiment of the kind of weak-willed female she loathed. He turned her into a ** _baby sitter_**. He thrust her into an unfamiliar world, domesticating her skills, dulling her senses until all she was good for was taking care of squalling brats, exploding child-assassin, hunted mafia resource personnel and two hormone-driven girls.

He has taken away her assassination assignments and her blood contracts until all that could recall of the her name was that she was once called Poison Scorpion and that she could kill with her cooking.

There was no more time for killing political leaders or heads of major Mafia famiglias—not when her hours are now consumed with making sure that the woman the Decimo owed his life to be kept safe, sound and unaware.

There was no more time for brilliant covert operations that resulted in world-wide speculation and awe when all her considerable attention and logistical skills were being devoted to keeping one crybaby out of everyone's hair and not electrocuted by his own idiocy and that a certain ranking prince did not end up being hunted like last season's prized game.

There was no more time for trips to exotic locales and unheard of places, shopping for even more exotic ingredients or finding new and innovative ways to improve her cooking. Not when she was playing nursemaid, confidante and role model to a child that knows more about killing than playing, a teen that has an unhealthy fascination for costumes and stalking and one very NORMAL teenager with an idiot brother and an even more idiotic admirer.

That man has taken away her freedom—curtailing her flight and pinning her feet to the ground just as effectively as if he had cut off her wings and fashioned the ball and chain himself. He told her she could stay in his house and never explained that it was a prison. He invited her to rest in his home and fool that she was never understood that he meant she could never ever leave.

* * *

_**He has taken her infamy—reducing her into something unfit for the life she has known.** _

She was Poison Scorpion Bianchi. She was a well-known, widely feared contract killer. She could kill a man with a single cookie or decimate and entire town with just a fully planned dinner party.

Not that any of that mattered now. Now that ** _THAT_**  man has taken everything from her, there was nothing more that she could boast about or even be proud of.

He has stolen her only blood-tie and forced her to watch from the sidelines as her own brother fawned over a weak-willed runt and endure the indignity of wearing a costume or goggles just to stand close enough to feel her brother's warmth. It was hard for her to accept that she will never be number one in Hayato's heart—even when that's what she has hoped for ever since she has found him again. Harder still, was the fact that the pathetic boy that stole Hayato managed to snag her heart along with her brothers.

He took her beloved and left her with just the annoyance of seeing someone who bore a wicked resemblance to that once-beloved thoroughly unfaithful Romeo come and go in a cloud of pink fumes. Even when she does occasionally gets the chance to kill him again.

He has clipped her wings, made her domestic and saddled her with a crazy pseudo family hell-bent on driving her crazy with their antics and demands. Sure, this weird-ass arrangement also offered her first taste at normally in a setting as close to a normal home life as she could figure but that doesn't mean she couldn't get annoyed playing Martha Stewart to that loud-mouthed demanding crybaby—especially when he calls her a monster  _to her face_.

He has stripped away all that she is and left her naked and without anything left but a name and a once infamous reputation. He has taken everything she has worked hard to attain and never seemed to think that it was that important or that it was such a big deal to her.

He has taken it all. And she still she wonders when he would be willing take anything more.


End file.
